devil on the doorstep
by freedomatthesea
Summary: Prompt: The night before the big battle against the Wicked Witch?


_You wash your hands and come out clean_  
_Fail to recognize the enemies within_  
_You say we're not responsible_  
_But we are, we are, we are, we are_

* * *

Emma had never believed in God. She had lived in too many bad foster homes where they treated the kids that came through their doors like they were nothing, but always managed to get dressed up in their Sunday best and play church for a few hours. If there was a God then she hated him because why would he let her be abandoned on the side of the road?

But she found herself sitting in the sanctuary of Storybrooke's only church, with her head bowed, _pleading _with whoever would listen to her. Begging them to make all of this stop. Regina had warned them that fighting the Wicked Witch wouldn't end well - for any of them. Everyone might not survive. She never got a chance to breathe anymore. Something was always going to go wrong.

"_Swan_?"

Emma sat up with a start, wiping at her eyes as she turned in the pew, looking down the shadowy aisle. "Hook." She whispered, not trusting her own voice. "What are you doing here?"

"You weren't with the others." Hook gave as an explanation. His face was painted with pale blue hues as the moonlight passed through the stained glass windows. He slipped into the pew beside her, "Even the hardest of hearts believe in a god in their darkest hour."

Emma gave piteous laugh at that, wringing her hands together as she looked up at the crucifix, hanging at the center of the wall. "You know, saviors always have to die to save their people."

"Then it's a good thing that you're just Emma." His voice was thicker than it normally was and she realized as his trembling fingers curled around her hand, he was holding back a tears.

"I _wish_ I was just Emma." She squeezed his hand back tightly, certain they would both fall apart if she let go.

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Emma questioned, her brows knitting together as she trained her eyes on his features in the dark. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm the reason you might die." He wouldn't turn to face her, his eyes trained on that damned crucifix in the center of the room. "I was selfish. I came and I found you and… you_ could_ have lived a normal life with Henry."

"But that's not the life I _want_." Emma's voice cracked, tears trailing down her cheeks. "It was a life, a good life at that, but it was _empty_. False memories, a false life, nothing was real. That's no way to live."

Hook released her hand, rising to his feet abruptly, "Come on, we should get you back to the rest of the group. Tomorrow's going to be a hell of a day and you need sleep."

"I _can't_ sleep. I can't stop thinking about what's waiting tomorrow. Who we may or may not lose. What we have to sacrifice." She stood then, reaching for him. "Please don't go." She couldn't lose _him_. "Finding me wasn't selfish, you didn't just do it for _you_. David told me everything."

"Of course he did." Killian said dryly, turning around to face her. "If I had known that this was what was waiting for you, I would have left you there with a chance to be happy. You deserve that after everything you've been through."

Emma stepped closer to him, her eyes searching his in the pale light of the sanctuary. "I'm happy now." She told him, her voice wavering, her breath caught in the back of her throat.

"_Happy_?" He scoffed, shaking his head. He started to take a step back, to put space between them, but she curled her fingers around his forearms and begged him to stay with her eyes. "How can you be happy, love?"

"Because this could be the last night I have Henry, my parents, hell even Regina, but most of all…" She swallowed thickly, licking her lips as she forced the words out that she'd been holding in. "I have _you_."

Emma wasn't entirely certain who initiated the kiss. All she knew was that they were kissing each like this was the last time they would have a chance. She wasn't going to pull away this time and there was no reason for her to knee him in the groin.

She curled her fingers around the back of his head, sliding them through his thick dark hair, memorizing the way the strands felt as they slipped between them. His hand slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers smoothing over her waist as he pulled her close.

They stumbled, bumping into pews as he walked her backwards. The kiss was desperate, needy, full of all the pent up desire that they hadn't allowed themselves to give into before tonight. But tonight could be their last night. The last chance for them to give in.

Emma shoved his heavy leather coat off his shoulders, her hands skimming over his shoulders, pressing close to him as he deepened the kiss. She groaned against his mouth, her tongue sliding over his, tasting rum on his tongue - it didn't even surprise that he'd had a drink, he was as scared as she was.

Hook somehow managed to get them to the floor, his hips pressed to hers, allowing her to feel his _very_evident need for her, pressed against her leg. Emma broke from the kiss, lifting up off the floor long enough to pull her shirt off, tossing it aside.

She didn't know why, but it made sense to her for this to be happening in the middle of a church, on the eve of everything. There was some strange sense of beauty in it, something sacred and _right_ about all of it.

There were no words that had to be said. Their actions spoke louder than words ever could. He admitted his love again and again with every flick of his tongue over her taut nipple, every stroke of his thumb as he worked her to a release long before he even rid himself of the uncomfortable confines of his trousers. He worshiped her - not the savior. Just her. He worshiped Emma, with his mouth and his fingers, with every inch of his body.

Emma cried out his name as they moved together, her nails drawing blood at his shoulders as she forced him to his back and rode him until they both lay exhausted on the floor, sated in ways that neither of them had realized they needed to be satisfied.

His heart beat rapidly beneath her ear as she pressed her cheek to his chest and she realized, in the quiet reverence of the moment, that his heart beat for her. She couldn't lose _him_. If she lost him, that was it for her. She could pick herself up for Henry's sake, but this was where her happy ending lay.


End file.
